


Striderman

by furyspook



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-12
Updated: 2013-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-25 04:14:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/634996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/furyspook/pseuds/furyspook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dirk Strider makes his living building Imperial Drones for the military (they're intimidating, and nothing if not dangerous), but after an attempt on his life and sudden involvement in a gang war he finds himself in a sticky situation. To help himself out of said sticky situation, he builds himself a suit of armor.</p><p>(In other words; take some Dirk, put some Iron Man in it.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jane's New Job

Everybody knew Dirk Strider. It was hard not to, what with all the publicity this kid got. Jane Crocker, though, she thought that it was all hype. He had inherited his fame from his older brother. 

When Dave Strider died, the cause was unreleased by the press (which was surprising because they managed to get their grubby hands on whatever information they wanted). You wouldn't think that a man who made his living working on a couple of shitty movies with even shittier casting and scripts would be so popular with so many people. Either way, they didn't get anything on that particular occurence. They were more interested in his younger brother, Dirk; how he was coping, what he would do with the mound of cash he left behind, if he was going to continue the franchize. Dirk never spoke to the press, and they played it off as mourning, despite the stoic and uninterested way he regarded their cameras. He wasn't paying attention, that was the truth. 

Dirk Strider was quickly becoming one of the largest producers of Imperial Drones in the world, seeing as he had no interest in picking up where his brother left off in the movie industry. From what Jane understood, he was in charge of most of the planning, and a good bit of the building, of all of the drones he shipped. She'd heard from several sources that he also dabbled in the production of videos of dubious content and sewing puppets of dubious use, but she'd like to believe that those rumors were not true, thank you very much. She had faith that her new boss was at least somewhat respectable. 

Jane approached the building with caution, looking up at it with wide eyes. She'd passed it several times on the street, but never actually stopped to get a good look at it. It looked almost like one of the many industrial apartment buildings taking up most of the city, but it had a strange shape. Almost like it was leaning. She tilted her head to the side, uncertain now of whether or not she wanted to go inside. It didn't matter what she wanted, it seemed, because once she'd worked up the courage to walk up to the doors, they opened to reveal a sharply dressed man with pointed sunglasses. She opened her mouth to tell him how ridiculous he looked with them on, but she snapped it shut immediately. It wouldn't do to offend on her first day. Maybe in a couple of weeks, once they'd had the time to get to know one another. Maybe they could even be friends. 

"Great, you're here just when I needed you to be." Dirk looked down his nose at Jane, who stared right back. She couldn't see his eyes through the glasses, and it was disconcerting. Before she could get a word in, Dirk was ushering her through the doors, pointing her in the direction of a ringing telephone, sitting alone on a desk. Jane glanced back in his direction, and he was on the other side of the room, checking the clock and straightening his tie. The phone emmitted another shrill ring, and he waved his hand in it's general direction again. "It's really not going to get itself." He explained. 

Jane pulled the phone off the hook, leaning on the desk with her free arm. She slouched and heaved a sigh. Jane took a deep breath and prepared to answer with a cheery 'hello!' when she heard a hiccup from the other end. She quirked an eyebrow, looking over her shoulder at her boss before she made to greet the caller again, but was once again interrupted. 

"Dirk! Dirky, Dirk! Hey, Dirk. Guess what," Jane pulled the phone back from her ear and spun herself around. "I was nominated again, d'you believe it?" The woman on the other line giggled for a couple of seconds, and then she went silent. "Dirk? Ya' there?" 

"Yes, um," Jane piped up, "This is Mr. Strider's assistant. May I ask your name, so I can tell him you're calling?" There was another moment of silence on the other line, and then another fit of giggles. 

"Jus' tell him Roxy's on the line, jus' tell him I've got some big news!" Jane rubbed her temples. Dirk had just left the room, and she didn't know where the hell he would've gone. She didn't want to shout for him, either. "Well?" 

"Please hold," Jane placed the phone on its side on the desktop and nervously twiddled her fingers. She should really go look for him. In fact, she would do just that. She couldn't be the assistant if she couldn't even pass on his phonecalls. Jane puffed out her chest in a valiant attempt to prove to herself that she wasn't nervous of being around her boss. She was Jane Crocker, and god damnit she'd had worse jobs! 

There was only one door coming off of the front room, so it was reasonable to assume that Dirk went in that direction. Jane tip-toed to the doorway, peering around to look into the hallway. She paused momentarilly to take in the scene. 

Dirk stood in the corner of the hall furthest from Jane, head bent low. He was pressing at the wall, muttering something under his breath as he worked his fingers under a panel of some kind. He cursed slightly louder, and turned around to face her. She wasn't as descreet as she thought she was, it seemed. "Well, who was it?" He asked, pressing the panel back into the wall without looking at it, and without looking at her. 

"It _is_ ," Jane emphasized the present tense, "A woman. She says her name is Roxy, and she has some good news." Dirk's posture automatically changed. His slump, now that she had noticed it, was gone, and he looked expectant. "She's still on the line." Jane watched curiously as he walked towards her, or rather, to the phone in the room behind her. She stayed in the hall, promising that she would not evesdrop. She wouldn't. 

She couldn't help it. Jane pressed herself up against the wall closest the door and listened intently to the room beyond it. She couldn't hear anything. She told herself that it was good, because she shouldn't have been listening in on another person's-- especially not her boss'-- telephone calls. She couldn't help it, though. It was too much fun. She sighed, because being a jokester in the workplace was hard. 

"That's great!" She heard, pausing mid-thought to listen again. Dirk laughed, and Jane turned her head just so that she could see around the doorway and look at the desk. Dirk was leaning on the desk, holding the phone in one hand and adjusting his shades in the other. Jane made a note to remind him later that wearing sunglasses indoors was bad for his eyes. "No, Rox, that's great! I'm happy for you." 

"Yeah, of course I can make it. Hey, am I going to see you tonight?" At least he had a personality, Jane thought to herself. She supposed she just hadn't seen it yet. " _No_ , I'm not going to _my own_ presentation." While not one of her favorite things about a person, Jane could admire the humor in sarcasm. 

"Great, see you then." Dirk hung up the phone, taking his hand down from his glasses and pulling one of the papers on his desk towards the edge. Jane figured it was only a matter of time before he turned back to the hall again, and she made sure she took a few quiet steps further into the hallway before walking back into the front room. 

"Oh, good, you're back. Listen, I need to go to a presentation tonight. It shouldn't be long, maybe a couple of hours, but you'll be here alone for a while." Jane opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off for what must have been the hundredth time today. "Don't worry about answering the phone, either, everyone who calls me will be within shouting distance." 

"When can I be expecting you back?" Jane asked, looking at the clock. A 'couple of hours', however long he meant, was well past when she'd expected to be heading home. 

"Make sure the bots don't get into any trouble." Dirk waved at her over his shoulder before walking out the door. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we get more into Roxy.

The presentation had gone over without a hitch. Dirk had rehearsed his speech one hundred times, and recited it to crowds hundreds more. He displayed pieces of the armor, as well as 'new' features, and informed the crowd that _yes_ the power source _was_ hard to come by. They bought about twenty of them anyway, so he couldn't care less. Dirk stood by while they asked questions, making no attempt to hide his displeasure while he did. Their concern was warranted, of course. None of his models were particularly safe, especially when the people dealing with them weren't trained professionals. The drones only took orders from the top, and it wasn't the common soldier. 

It was probably for the best no soldiers were actually present, then. 

Now, after two hours of non-stop observation, Dirk was walking out of the building. He was tired as fuck of military men and their questions. None of his models actually ever changed. Everything they'd ever need was everything they already knew. As far as Dirk could tell, they were only talking to get their money's worth of the building rent. They'd booked the thing for three hours, way longer than Dirk was planning to stay. He hadn't even wanted to stay as long as two hours-- it was an in-and-out business --but nobody had let him leave. He considered himself lucky that he'd gotten out of there when he did, before everyone was allowed up onto the stage to poke and prod at his work. Nobody would even notice he was gone, Dirk was certain, because the drone skeleton he'd brought along would keep them all occupied for the remainder of their time. 

The sun had gone down while he was inside. The streetlamps covered small circles of pavement and vehicles with eerie yellow light. Dirk wouldn't admit it, but he spent more time looking out the corners of his eyes and over his shoulder than usual at these things. 

He was halfway to his car, figuring he would drive himself home rather than wait for a driver. It alleviated the stress of talking to the press and the businessmen. Those assholes. He rounded his car to the driver's side, was about to open the door when he heard a familiar voice call to him over his shoulder. 

"Dirk! _Hey,_ Dirk, wait up, huh?" 

He stopped and looked over his shoulder at Roxy, who was running over the sidewalk in his direction with a folder under her arm. She showed no intention of slowing down, instead he thought he could see her speeding up as she neared. She was almost a yard away when Dirk opened his arms to catch her. Once they had greeted with the Embrace of a Thousand Drunk Authors, Roxy fussed with the folder, moving it where it wouldn't be crushed between them. 

"'S'up, Rox?" Dirk inquired, spinning her around and backing away to give her some space. Roxy chuckled and cracked the folder open in the direction of her face. She leafed through the small stack of papers within and pulled out a piece of thin, grey paper. She held it out to him triumphantly, and struck a pose. 

"I did it _again!_ " Roxy said, and Dirk pulled the paper gently from between her forefinger and thumb. It was a certificate, announcing in bold Times font that Roxy was nominated for an award. "I'm the only one in my category! I'm gonna win again!" Dirk rolled his eyes, mentally commenting that of _course_ she was the only one. Her book, at least the one she was nominated for, was so obscure and could fit into so many sub-categories that they'd just mashed a bunch together and squeezed it in. Grinning, Dirk pushed his shades up to his hairline and leaned his head back to get a look through the paper. 

"No way, it's gotta be a forgery." He joked, "Nobody read that thing." 

"Yea-huh!" Roxy stood up taller on one foot and plucked the certificate from Dirk's hands. Placing it back in the folder, she leaned her shoulder on Dirk's, huffing and blowing a stray hair out of her face. Roxy's book was a best-seller, sold out on the first day it was put onto the shelves. _Calliope_ , it was called, was a story about a young skull-alien who was on a magical quest to stop her brother from terrorizing and destroying the universe. It was terrifying, really, but had been much-anticipated, and fans were already calling for another. Roxy was convinced that she was a one-hit-wonder, despite her friends' enthusiastic claims that she could write a second masterpiece in her sleep. Dirk had read it-- or rather, had Hal read it to him --and he could understand why they were so excited. Roxy totally deserved that award. 

"Mighty proud of you." Dirk bumped her off his shoulder and turned back to his car. She smirked. 

"Better be! It's better than making shitty robots for the witch." Roxy didn't try to hide the fact that she hated Dirk's job. She knew, he did too, that he was wasting his talents with those dumb drones. "So, we going back to your place, or mine?" 

"Promised Crocker I'd be home," 

"S'alright, I don't think Mutini wanted me home anyway." Roxy talked as if that cat ran her household. Well, he was a cat. 

"Let's go then," Dirk walked to the passenger side and unlocked the door, "after you."

No sooner had Dirk closed the door behind his companion than his cell phone started to ring. He tapped the window once to let Roxy know he'd be in in a minute and pulled out the archaic device. Out of all the tech he could have used for communication, he'd decided to keep his old flip-phone-- they didn't break half as easily. He didn't recognize the number, but flipped it open anyways and held it to his ear. 

"Strider." He said, listening to the other end. There was some scuffling, a muffled shout, another, and something shifting next to the speaker. Muttering was heard, and Dirk pulled the phone away from his head with the intention of hanging up. There was a sharp hiss of _"Sit! Down!"_ , and Dirk lowered his shades again. 

"Strider," a hoarse voice from the phone halted his hand.

He raised it again to his ear and snapped back, "That _is_ what I said." He was becoming impatient. He was going to be late coming home. 

There was another pained shout on the other end, and the line went dead. After a minute of standing there in stunned silence, the phone started with that terrible beeping, telling him that _yes_ , party two _did_ hang up, and that he should do likewise. Dirk shook his head slowly and closed the phone, tossing it through the driver door and sitting down beside it.

"Some business or somethin'?" Roxy asked from the other side, digging through his glove box. He'd rather she not do that, but he couldn't stop her. 

"No," Dirk pulled the door closed and shoved the key into the ignition. "Just a prank call." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that I have your attention.


	3. Chapter 3

When Dirk and Roxy crossed the threshold, they were laughing. Roxy was good at that, getting him to laugh. Dirk lifted her arm over his head and off of his shoulders, looking across the room. Jane was nowhere to be seen. He tapped Roxy on the shoulder and pointed out the door and down the hall, a direction from which they could both hear the collective shouting of several voices. She squinted, nodding quickly and putting a finger to her lips. Dirk shook his head and started in that direction, his friend following after him. 

He slid his fingertips over the wall as he advanced towards the door at the end. He can tell more clearly who's speaking now, though not necessarily what they're saying. Squarewave, one of his bots, was shouting asinine language, when an equally loud and more feminine voice shot back more unintelligible words. Must be Jane. Honestly, Dirk had thought that she'd have gone home by now. He was pretty late, since they'd stopped for a bite before they actually headed back here. 

He looked out the corner of his eyes in Roxy's direction, where her head all but rested on his shoulder. She looked over at him and shrugged. She reached forward and pushed the door open. The sight behind the door was, if he was honest, pretty comedic. He wished he had brought a camera, but then again, nobody expects this kind of thing.

Jane stood on a counter, computer to her left and a phone to her right, behind her a filing cabinet forest. She was glaring at the robot through crooked glasses, and in her hands were an assortment of pens with the tops twisted off. Squarewave, still shouting in his loud, metallic voice, something about the law being on her ass if she even thought about it. His head snapped to the right to look at the two of them once they burst through the door. "Look, see, there he is! Tell her, Bro!" 

Jane's eyes widened and she turned her head slowly in the direction of the door. Squarewave pulled as close a face he could to 'disgusted', and while they had to admire the attempt there wasn't much he could do with that face of his. Jane squinted at the new arrivals, _daring_ them to say a single word.

Just as slowly, Jane looked back at Squarewave, stepping off of the counter one leg at a time. She stuck her tongue out at the bot, something that Dirk noted was not only childish, but utterly hilarious. 

He coughed, and Roxy threw him a sidelong glance with narrowed eyes. The others tore their gazes away from one another after several moments of reluctance to do so, and all eyes were back on Dirk, where they should be. All the time. 

"Alright ladies," He held his hands up to them, dipping his head cockily. "What seems to be the problem here?"

"Yo, Bro, she tried to have me copy your papers and shit! That ain't my deal, and I tell her so, see, and she just keeps on!" Square shouted, the tinny sound of his voice grating on all present ears. 

"I asked you to _show me where the copier was_ you lying box of gears!" Jane hissed back, leaning over the counter and baring her teeth. 

"Yo! She's doing it again!" Squarewave tossed Dirk a nod, gesturing wildly at her, "You see this? That ain't how you just call someone!"

Roxy watched, riveted, eating every word up and storing it away. It seemed like she had been struck by inspiration of some kind.

"What are you trying to say, metalhead?" Jane asked, voice raised.

"Hal," Dirk muttered, watching the light behind his shades brighten significantly, a faint whirring noise turning his attention from his bot and his assistant. He could still hear the two of them going at one another, voices getting louder and taunts becoming spit more than spoken. He sighed, and the words flashed across the screen in their bright red.

**TT: Dirk.**

Dry-witted asshole. "Hal, where was Sawtooth when all this was going down?" Sawtooth, the taller and more competent counterpart to Squarewave, could normally distract the little asshole while his current target got away. Worst case scenario, he could carry Squarewave off back to the 'shop where he couldn't bother anyone. 

**TT: He's in the workshop. You know, where you left him.**

"I would thank you, but I don't like your tone."

**TT: My tone? Your tone.**

Dirk ignored him, though the irritating red of the letters continued to obstruct the center of his vision. He just would not give up, would he? 

**TT: No.**

**TT: No way on this shitty rock.**

After four more messages came down rapid-fire, Dirk pulled off his shades and slipped them into the pocket of his jacket. As always, removing them left him feeling exposed, but it was _his_ building, and he needed to shape the fuck up if he was going to keep it under control. No rampaging rap-bots. Not on his watch. 

"Listen here you bag of bolts, I didn't mean to offend you, I just wanted to find my way through this giant-as-hell building, and maybe get some work done while I'm supposed to!" Jane had stopped shouting, and was at this point barely putting up a fight. She'd gotten bored, while Squarewave could probably go for hours.

"Dirk, you need to give this woman a serious talking-to! She don't know shit about this place and she's talking to me like she runs it!" Square pointed across the room, waving his middle finger around like a fucking flag. He shook his head and turned to the dumbwaiter. The dumbwaiter was, in essence, his quickest route back to the workshop, where he would follow Sawtooth around and complain for the next five hundred years. 

"How did that even begin to sound like that?" Jane cried in exasperation and buried her face in her hands. Roxy rushed over to her and held Jane's shoulders, shushing her with mumbles like 'we got all the alcohol we need, we can fix this shit'. Dirk slipped his glasses back on, content to find that the lights had dimmed, and he could only just make out the words: 'Fine, asshat, I can wait.' 

"So, did you ever get those copies done?" Dirk asked, Roxy shooting him a look over Jane's shoulder. Jane looked up suddenly and shook her head. 

"You're in the wrong room, Crocker." Dirk gestured to the back of the room, another door stood among the cabinets and random chairs. "That's where we keep the junk." She tossed her hands into the air and leaned forward across the counter again. She muffled a half-sob and curled her arms over her head. "You get used to him." 

"You need to teach him some manners!" Came the muffled words, Roxy giggled when she heard it. 

"He wasn't built to have manners. He was build to help me out around the 'shop, and rap occasionally when things get slow." Jane stood up straight and looked up at Dirk. 

"Fuck that guy."

Dirk blinked behind his shades, and watched as Jane walked past him and out into the hall. He heard her angry shuffling feet until she hit the entrance, where she called out, "I'll be in tomorrow, but I _won't_ be going anywhere _near_ your workshop!" The door slid open with the customary _shhhhhh_ , and closed a moment later. Dirk and Roxy turned to look at each other, faces contrasting, what with Roxy's expression being one of shock and Dirk's stoic as ever. A second later, though, they were both bent over one another, laughing hysterically. 

"'Fuck that guy!', oh man, she's a keeper, Dirky!" Roxy hiccuped and ruffled his hair with her left hand. "You can really pick 'em!" Dirk swatted her hand away and tried to straighten up. His friend paused her laughter to yawn, and he let out a final chuckle.

"Alright, Lalonde, time for good little authors to go to bed." She lifted his hand above her head and spun instead, humming as her eyes started slipping closed.

"Whaddaya mean? I'm not even a little tired," She yawned once again, and Dirk gave her arm a tug. 

"Bed."

He ushered her to the back of the room, and the elevator beside the dumbwaiter. "You know where your room is." He gave her a shove into the elevator once it arrived, and though she protested she slumped against the wall and pushed the floor button.

"Get some stairs." She muttered as the doors closed. Dirk shook his head and straightened his tie. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter we get into the !!PLOT!!
> 
> (I'm not bother with text colors, I don't have the time or the patience today)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the plot commences.

After an hour or so of working on a personal project in the 'shop (and listening to Square continue to complain about Jane while Sawtooth neglected his babysitting duties), Dirk went up to bed himself. He had no recollection of his dreams later, but he was sure he'd gotten no more rest than he would have had he not slept at all. About a quarter past two in the morning, Dirk woke to the sound of the shades on his nightstand (one of the occasional nights he took them off) beeping. Not loudly, but loudly enough that he heard them and woke up. He blinked the sleep from his eyes and lifted the shades to his face. Words flew into sight half a second later.

**TT: Now would be a good time to grab that sword you always brag about**

**TT: Sure, you're not shit with it, but you could be better.**

So says the inanimate object. "Hal, why are you waking me up at half-past ass o'clock in the morning?"

**TT: Because, Einstein, home base is under attack.**

**TT: They're heading this way.**

"Shit, Hal, way to let me know they're getting in!" Dirk tossed the blanket to the floor and followed it down. He kept the sword under his bed, for no other reason than 'where the fuck else am I supposed to keep it?' And so it was that Dirk found himself standing in the dark holding a sword. The light on the shades flashed once more, and Dirk made a mental note to dim it, keep it from blinding him later. The backlight had always been hella bright when there were no other lights around.

**TT: Did I mention that at least one of them has a gun? Keeps banging it on the walls, dumb fuck.**

"So you tell me to get the sword‽ You son of a bitch!"

Dirk quieted his shouting, sucking in a sharp breath and surveying the room. There was nothing in there he could use, nowhere to go but to the hall, and he was more than a little unnerved by the fact that someone-- or a group of someones --had gotten into the building without alerting Hal sooner. Before Dirk could slip into the hall or jump out the window, his door handle jiggled experimentally. There were a series of clicks and the snapping of the lock. Muttering from the other side, and the door creaked open on abused hinges. 

"Oh, you're up." The voice was dry and bitter, Dirk couldn't help but wonder where he'd heard that voice before. "Good. Though I was kind of hoping to wake you, gently, with a shot to the foot." The shadow of the man, whose face Dirk still couldn't get a look at in the dark, was joined by three more. The three spares were various shapes and sizes, ranging from what must have been eight feet to shorter than Squarewave. Dirk took a small step back and towards the opposite side of the room. "Now, I don't know where you think you're going..." 

"Nowhere," He reassured, holding up his hands as the gun went up. 

"Good." He repeated taking a step into the room. Dirk could see his head swinging from side to side, movements akin to a snake's. He was taking everything in, and Dirk could have sworn that even through his shades he could see the gleam of the moonlight on his eyes.

Four of them, then. Dirk nodded to himself, keeping his face straight and weighing his options. There weren't many, and the only one he could see himself getting out alive, realistically, was just compliance with them. For a second, his thoughts turned to Roxy, in the next room over. She was probably sleeping, blissfully unaware of the men threatening him. God, he hoped they didn't know she was there. He would have liked to find some way to warn her to hide, or to sneak out in case they decided to have an actual look around.

"Alright, kid," Dirk put his focus back onto the men in front of him, though the larger one (built like a fucking brick wall) was shuffling calmly towards his left, looking to find a way around and behind him. Between him and the windows. Not that the 'jump out the window' idea had been too brilliant to begin with. "We're going to talk, you're going to listen, and then you're going to do."

-.-.-.-

Roxy Lalonde, author extraordinaire, was dreaming peacefully but one room further down the hall. She was woken, however, quite suddenly by a super-bright light rising on the side of the bed. Once she'd woken, and squinted long enough to keep her _terrible, horrible_ headache down, Roxy realized that the light was really a screen. It started dimming, once she sat up and turned her head towards it. Her eyes un-squinted, and she watched the text typing up onto the screen. 

**TT: Morning, Sunshine.**

**TT: Time to go.**

She blined, gesturing wildly and then grabbing at her head. It felt like it was going to burst, _oh my god why did she drink so much?_ Still, Roxy waited for him to explain the situation, or at least to elaborate a little more. She swore on her life this was the worst headache ever experienced in this tower.

**TT: Out into the hall, go right. Take the emergency stairs to the ground floor. Don't go left.**

The screen continued to stare coldly at her, and no other explanation was given. She slid off of the bed, and tapped her feet around the floor until she found her shoes, glad that she'd forewent the heels the night before and gone straight for the flats. Before she left the room, Roxy looked back up at the screen for any words of encouragement, or maybe some good news about the weather. The red text glared, instead, foreboding. 

**TT: Your ride's here.**

**TT: Don't go left.**

Roxy nodded as she pushed the door open, aware of the light of the screen fading out behind her. She couldn't _go_ left, but her curiosity was piqued, and she needed to at least _hear_ something of what was going on. She could always just _look_ left. Just a peek.

"What do you _mean_ you don't have any in the building?"

Her eyebrows took a leap up her forehead when she heard the voice, one she didn't recognize, coming from Dirk's room. Slowly, she crept out of her own, and reluctantly she took some steps to the right. She closed the door behind her, keeping quiet. Damn, everything was so dark. Now that that awful bright light was gone, she sort of wanted it back. 

She was on the stairs soon, feeling her way along the wall and stepping cautiously. She didn't want to end up like one of those unfortunate characters out of Dave's shitty old movies (she found that the joke, in this case, might have been in incredibly bad taste). She literally couldn't see anything, save for the small red light of the security camera. It was a good thing that she only needed to climb down one flight. 

Once out, in the Land of Desks and Filing Cabinets again, Roxy paused to listen for any sound coming from the floor above. She couldn't hear for shit, and the worry only grew that something was happening to Dirk. For a split second, she made towards the stairs again, but stopped herself. She should call the cops, if she could. She couldn't help Dirk much as she was now, tired woman with the _worst_ hangover. 

Roxy turned for the phone on the counter, dialing the emergency number and hoping for the best.

-.-.-.-

"Do you really think, in your _half-peanut_ of a brain, that I keep completed Imperial Drones in my _house_?" Dirk was incredulous. They really thought, in their half-peanut brains, that he kept completed Imperial Drones in his house.

"Where the fuck _do_ you keep them then?" The short one (but not the _shortest_ one, who almost came up to Dirk's chest, but the other one) was really getting into this interrogation. He may as well have been foaming at the mouth. Dirk was just as angry with him, not to mention that he was slightly terrified.

"You're out of luck, boss." Dirk would be proud to say that his voice didn't waver at all, "Just sold the last twenty I had on hand." This news didn't make him any happier, just louder and more obnoxious. He cursed like it was going out of style, and made sure to give all three of his dedicated (you would have had to be _extremely_ dedicated to put up with this slobbering asshat) goons a good smack before his rage was re-directed at Dirk. Some house guests they were. 

**TT: Roxy's out.**

He sighed in relief, though it was almost immediately replaced by shock when the little one-- the little little one --ripped the sword out of his hands without even trying. He must've been wearing some kind of gloves, to have ripped the blade of the sword from Dirk fucking Strider would normally take a much larger amount of blood, sweat, and tears. Mostly tears, because they wouldn't even be able to wrench it out of his cold, dead hands. Before he could ogle at him in his stunned awe, however, a fist collided heavily with his face, and everything went dark. Well, darker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that we're here, I can tell you that some other characters come in soon.
> 
> Chapter for my friend Gem, who seems to think this story is the shit for some reason.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is no Dirk in this chapter. No Dirk for you.

Roxy had, after running from the house and into the rain, found a taxi waiting for her, to take her away from the building. Reluctantly, she'd given the driver directions to the house of her good friend Jake English. Jake was in the business of what he often referred to as 'tomb raiding', but neither Roxy nor Dirk actually knew what he meant by that. Roxy, being the conspiracy theorist that she was, liked to believe that he was somehow involved in the government. Possibly something to do with exhuming the bodies of dead alien lifeforms. She'd been meaning to write something along those lines for months, just never got around to it. It seemed like it would have to wait a little longer now. 

After an almost painful half-hour of being questioned over the events of the night, Roxy had fallen asleep on Jake's bed, and he had stepped out to investigate for himself- something else he wouldn't be able to do were he not somehow involved with the law enforcement somehow. 

Now it was seven in the morning, and Roxy had been called back in by the police. It seems he'd pulled enough strings to let them leave her to her sleep. While infinitely grateful, as her hangover had almost gone, she wanted to smack him for leaving her out; she was just as worried about Dirk as he was. 

When she arrived, there were four officers outside, two of which were talking to Jake and Jane, respectively. Jane was pressing him, asking for all the details despite his insistence that he couldn't tell her anything about it. Good ol' Janey, Roxy knew she would like her. Eventually, though, she stormed off down the stairs in a huff and Jake pulled her aside to do some questioning of his own. Again. 

"Miss Lalonde?" A tall man in a blue uniform called as he sketched down some notes on his itty-bitty notepad. He took a (rather well-thought-out) position between her and the stairs. 

"Yeah?" She replied, holding out her hand for a shake. He didn't take it, instead opting to rudely take pen to pad. 

"You were there during the event?"

Roxy pulled her hand back to her side, nodding. He'd begun writing whatever down before she had even started talking. Roxy had all of half a second to begin to question the incompetence of the police force before he tossed another question at her. What did you see? What did you hear? How did you know to leave? (Of course, only after explaining and hearing herself did she realize how crazy the intelligent wall-screen sounded.) And you called the police? Thank you for your time.

After fifteen minutes of running circles of questions on repeat, Roxy was released. She was told that they would be contacting her later as a key witness. Jake let her know that they already had her seated as a suspect. She was sure he wasn't actually supposed to tell her that. When Jane actually asked what sort of relationship Jake had with the police, and being told that nobody actually knew, she confided in Roxy that she didn't feel one hundred percent comfortable in the presence of someone so mysterious. Roxy promptly laughed in her face, and while Jane couldn't have looked more offended she found herself joining in when Jake was pushed off the property by the police. His 'chums', it seems, didn't want to be so chummy with him.

-

From their position in the coffee shop opposite Strider's building, the three of them _discreetly_ observed the rest of the investigation. They hadn't finished until the sun set, and Roxy had fallen asleep despite the five cups of hot coffee they'd all needed to order to be allowed to stay in the building. 

Despite their incredibly sneaky peering over the counter by the window when nobody was looking, the nice officers of the law made sure they stopped by the shop on their way back to the station. They warned the trio that they had a car watching the building, and would for the entirety of the night. Jane had replied with a sarcastic 'What are you trying to say?' and the woman in the driver's seat rolled her eyes as they took off. 

"Damn, there goes my plan." Jake snapped his fingers animatedly and pulled a face. 

"So we _were_ going to sneak in?" Jane asked, and Roxy lifted her face from the table to nod. 

"We still are, Jane. We still are." At the pointed looks of her companions, Roxy grinned widely and explained to them that, as a writer, she had plenty of experience thinking outside the box. Hairbrained schemes were included. "Well, she did say _a_ car." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update though.

**Author's Note:**

> Aha. Ha. Ha. 
> 
> Haaa. 
> 
> Anyway, I sort of thought this up some time during the past few days, and thought I could take it somewhere. Cool/not cool, I'm going to give it a shot. 
> 
> We'll get further into the plot next chapter, get into characters and things a little more. Etc.
> 
> I'm, uh, sorry about the ending to this chapter... It should get better as I get a better feel for the story. I hadn't pre-written this one. Heh.. 
> 
> What do you think? I guess is what I should say.
> 
> P.S.: Expect chapters to get longer/more interesting. I'm just getting the hang of this.


End file.
